Rochester by Night

Three months later...
Downtime Flies When You're Havin' Fun

Alan Ramsey is now staying at the Raddison on Jefferson. It’s not a luxury hotel by any stretch, but it is a major step up in comfort from the Highlander. He is on the basement level, with a half-window that escapes to the parking lot in each of the two adjoining rooms being provided. There is a very solid door in each room, between the rooms, which can be locked or left open. The Raddison is conveniently right up the street from Lovin’ Cup Bistro, your favored hunting spot, and it has a decent bar/lounge with no shortage of travelers just staying a night and looking for a handsome young man to share a glass of wine with.

Marcel has spent much of his recent nights making arrangements for his eventual purchase of the former Tech Noir building. Rose has granted access to the building to his allies, who are in the process of orchestrating it’s renovation.

Leonora has a “job” at the local Urgent Care clinic, where she takes extra blood draws whenever she can, or fails to dispose of vials and instead keeps them. She has banked several blood points worth of vitae, and hasn’t had to resort to carousing for blood in over two weeks.

Ryan has connected with a small-time criminal, Julio, whom he knows works for a loosely-organized network known as “Los Diablos”, which is short for a much longer name that is something like “Los Diablos Rojos de Ixtapaluca”. From what Ryan can gather, the red devils are based in Mexico, and they have a very small presence here. Still, there are probably some power players involved somewhere along the line, and it would be best to be cautious.

Daniel has been keeping his eyes and ears open for strange goings on in and around the city, but especially Henrietta. There have been a handful of unsolved homicides in the past two months, though there hasn’t been much coverage of the events in the media. For a town this size, that seems like it should be a big deal. There are four students from the Rochester Institute of Technology (located in Henrietta) who have gone missing. Two female roommates and two seemingly unconnected males.

Night 2, Vertex and Vortex
Pull Back the Curtain and Walk the Downward Spiral...

Club Vertex is near downtown Rochester, a quaint little red-bricked building on the outside, it’s an industrial goth club on the inside. The coterie all found their way to the VIP rope inside, and made their way to the Vortex Lounge, a masquerade sex fetish party hosted by Rose.

They were presented with a wall of masks, presumably for the taking, but determined to be some sort of message, perhaps from Rose. The unusual arrangement and stylings of the masks suggested they represented something or (somebody’s) else. There was a second wall, smaller, filler with animal-themed masks.

The coterie met several neonates at Vortex:

Bu-on al-Ni, Toreador – polite and friendly, if not a bit on the quiet side. Seemed very comfortable carousing among the kine. Middle eastern and bald, slight accent.

Dwayne Whitman, Gangrel – One of the Sheriff’s hounds. Laid back, but definitely a thumb breaker.

Hunter Kincaid, Caitiff – 90s metal head, sponsored by Rose.

Sean Choi, Brujah – Clan-bonded with Marcel a bit. Says Ventrue give Gordon grief due to actions of some brujah who aren’t around any more. One of them was his childe.

Sylvia, Malkavian – “Adopted” Childe of Rose. Was quiet, but observant. Had a playful intelligence about her.

Ward and Cassidy were there, too.

There was a performance piece put on, which seemed to symbolize a struggle between vampires and werewolves. An actor presumably representing Patterson refused to intervene in the conflict, instead engaging with the elder werewolf intimately.

Night 2, The Library II
A Swim with the Sharks

Primogen Willoghby turned the floor over to Dr. Zimmerman, who gave a short and respectful introduction of Cassidy Kline, announcing that he was hosting her as a guest in similar fashion. Cassidy forced a smile.

As the kindred begin to mingle after the formal introductions are over, Gordon, Gustav, and Owen continue the courtesy of initiating contact with their familiar brethren of Rochester, and inviting the guest neonates into the conversation or allowing the elders to make the invitations themselves. As you each explore your topics of interest, it isn’t long before the gathered take interest in Marcel’s telling of “The Escape From Toledo”. While he had hoped to give targeted recounts of the events to different audiences, he soon realized everyone was going to listen to this early telling.

The young brujah was perfectly comfortable with all eyes on him. Realizing that some may not have heard the beginning of the story, he artfully backtracked to important points, retelling them but being sure to add a poignant aside or place new significance on old information so as not to bore those who had heard it already.
Ryan was reluctantly drawn into telling the tale of how he picked up the pursuit of the ice cream truck. Marcel waited for the right time, caught Ryan’s eyes just as he was about to run off track, and retook the storytelling baton.

Daniel, Leonora, and Alan could appreciate how well Marcel was handling the subject, especially given how close to the ordeal they all still were. Each of them contributed a few details to the tale. Ryan went a little too far off point by describing his experience with the game of golf in his own peculiar style, and before Marcel could rescue him, Daliah spoke for the first time of the evening.

“Does this Gangrel have a mental condition we should know of?”
She was speaking to Marcel. Ryan wished he could sink into the floor. Marcel considered his next words for only a moment.

“No, ma’am, I do not believe he does. What he has is the biggest set of brass balls I have ever witnessed. Most of y’all have been around a lot longer than I have, but tell me if this doesn’t hold up. Check this out. My boy just wiped out two of them with his bike, and then bitch puts half a clip in him from four steps away. Half of my brutha’s skull popped off, if I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’…” Marcel was even pantomiming some of the action. He had the whole crowd back into the story, and feeling nothing but sympathy for Ryan, and then amazement that he somehow survived.

At one point, Marcel asked Daniel, “What did you say that thing was?”

“A Tzimisce. It was in what they call ‘Horrid Form’”. Gasps and murmurs arose from the crowd. Some began asking questions, some doubted the truth of it. They even looked to the Tremere elder for confirmation.

“Sounds like one to me,” the old Dr. confirmed, his coarse, gray eyebrows raised to full arches. The issue was settled.

Once the tale was complete, the kindred of Rochester, recognizing the telling of the story as a performance, applauded Marcel for his efforts and the rest of the coeterie for their heroics.

Ryan Malone avoids socializing as much as he can. Benedict Wilmarth engages him a bit, and being a soldier and bit of a loner himself, sympathizes with the young gangrel.

Alan Ramsey keeps his interactions superficial so as not to offend anyone. He learns Ward Fairfax is very young – about three years embraced. He also makes a good impression on Damon Ford, and is able to determine that Damon and Gustav are perhaps not fully invested in the Prince’s Brood, and that Benedict and Ward are treated a bit differently by the other Ventrue. Gordon and Damon seem to have a comfortable relationship, and Bethany is comfortable with Benedict, Owen, and Damon. Virgil and Gordon avoid each other – almost awkwardly.

Leonora learns that Cassidy is not happy at the Chantry, and that Virgil creeps her out. She thinks the place is haunted. Virgil seems very taken by the Giovanni, however, and engages with her at length. He was particularly interested in what she thought of the “squid” she encountered.

Gordon confided in Marcel that Rose is popular with the young kindred, and their support gives her influence among the elders. He also learns that he and the other Toledo kindred owe no boons to anyone in Rochester for accommodations; they are held by the Prince of Toledo, who is not yet confirmed destroyed. Enola moreso than Bethany are Harpies, and in general both Toreador are pleasant (again, Enola moreso than Bethany, who is very direct). The Ventrue assumed Marcel would be stereotypical rabble. Rose fawned over Marcel to the point of being obnoxious, but revealed she has had personal experience with a squid.

Daniel noticed that Daliah wears an earpiece and is listening to something. Bethany and Enola are in business together, and it’s probably criminal. Damon is interested in gaining the confidence of Leonora and Alan. Owen is investigating Alan’s financials and reports it to Damon. Most of the elders tolerate Rose, but find her annoying. They tend to placate her for sake of ease. She takes a strong liking to Daniel, flirting with him unapologetically.

Rose invites the coterie to a Club Vertex, insisting that they come.

Night 2, The Library
How to Make Friends and Influence Dead People

The interior of the public library is open and spacious. There is plenty of room for kindred to move about without having to intrude upon private conversations. The vestibule of the main floor is open all the way to the skylights in the ceiling, with a balcony of deep bookshelves wrapping around three sides. The lights are low and glow warmly, giving an almost candlelit ambience to the entire space. The wooden railings, trim, and bookcases all glow with polished butternut stain.

Owen Preston walks with Marcel, introducing him to the few kindred present, and others as they arrive. It is not long before Leonora and Alan arrive, and Gustav likewise shows them around, mingling casually as they go. Gordon Willoghby makes an appearance, and soon is seen walking with Daniel and Ryan.

Kindred continue to arrive, and there are blood dolls available to those who are so inclined. The blood dolls are generally congregated near the front of the vestibule, and your escort will explain that these mortals are treated well, and properly handled so as not to violate the masquerade. They are seated on leather-cushioned benches and chairs, most engaged with each other. The men are shirtless and shaven, the women dressed elegantly in strapless evening gowns or flowing silk blouses and short skirts. All are adorned so as to provide easy access to most major arteries. Your escort will explain that if you have certain preferences, or whims for that matter, feel free to ask a vessel if they meet them. Most will gladly accommodate your desires. The recessed areas of the main and upper floors are dim and should provide relative privacy. Please respect other kindred’s privacy. If you take a doll, please escort it to Philip at the information desk when you are done. You are politely reminded that aggression, weapons of any kind, and displays of vampiric power are forbidden in Elysium, excepting the eldest present in extreme cases.

At two minutes past midnight, Gordon calls for the attention of the assembled.

“Thank you all for coming. As you well know, I am hosting some young kindred who were able to escape the carnage of the Toledo assault two nights ago. They survived a direct attack and a daytime journey to get here, and have obviously been uprooted and separated from their homes, clansmen, and affairs. As they adjust to their new situation and await word on the possibility of their return, I trust you will all join me in welcoming them into our community, and offer your assistance to their overcoming the challenges they may face in the nights ahead.

“Most of you have met already, but allow me to provide a formal introduction, for those who have not.

“ Marcel Covington, childe of Gillespie, childe of Tara, of clan Brujah. I have heard only good things about you. Welcome, sir.

“Mr. Alan Ramsey, childe of Richard Fisk, of clan Ventrue. Alan comes to us with high praise from his elders. We welcome you, Mr. Ramsey.

“Ms. Leonora Genovese, childe of Antonio, sponsored and taken as ward in Toledo by Deidre of clan Ventrue. We welcome you to our city.

“Mr. Ryan Malone, childe of Magdelena, of clan Gangrel. Mr. Malone lent his talents to the sheriff of Toledo on many occasions. Welcome, and please enjoy our hospitality.

“Not at all least, Mr. Daniel Drummond. Daniel was unfortunately estranged of his sire and had no proper mentoring as a fledgling. He found and pledged himself to the Camarilla, and was immediately sponsored by Carmen of clan Malkavian. He has been an exemplary citizen of the Toledo community. We welcome you, Mr. Drummond.

“You are all welcome to stay and get acquainted. There are some new art pieces on display downstairs. Please remember the morning staff arrives before dawn, and to have your business concluded by 5 a.m.”

With that, the Brujah elder thanks you each for indulging him, and asks you to come see him as a group before any of you leave the gathering. There are some technical things and princely decrees of which he is obliged to inform you, but he would rather not stifle your socialization with it now.


If you head over to the Characters page, you will see I have revealed the characters present at the library this evening.

My intention is NOT to have this little soiree take up two months of real time going back and forth with narrative conversations. I would instead like for each of you to plainly state your goals for the interactions. Examples would be finding general information on a topic, finding specific information on a topic, finding out everything you can about a certain kindred or a clan, etc
- “I will try to get a sense of what the kindred think happened in Toledo”
- “I am curious what other kindred really think of Willoghby.”
- “I do NOT want to come across as a buffoon.”

You might, of course, have multiple goals, but please prioritize them.

Please also define your strategy. You may talk to one or two kindred at length, or mingle and talk to most or all kindred briefly. The longer you focus on a conversation, the more you might discover, but the information may also be limited by that character’s perspective. Talking to kindred of equal status is easiest, and harder as you go up the totem pole. However, if you succeed in your dealings with elders, you will certainly gain greater rewards. Likewise, you risk greater failure.

Quick status refresher, low to high: neonate, ancilla, elder, seneschal, primogen, prince

I will interject on the behalf of the NPCs as I see fit, of course. If you would actually LIKE to have a back-and-forth with an NPC in character, I welcome it, and suggest we carry it out via facebook messenger or e-mail.

Good luck, team! Let’s get out there and give it our best! Remember- win or lose, you’ll probably know right away!

Off to the Hunt!
Sponge it up

The Brujah elder takes his leave, and the young kindred from Toledo choose their rooms and get their keys from Craig. The rooms are all very similar, each with two twin beds, a separate bathroom, a window on the front and back walls, heavy curtains, and an old-fashioned key-locked door. Each closet has extra linens, a blanket, and a 10′×10′ blue tarp (still in package). There’s towels and toiletries in the bathroom, and an old school fat TV on the dresser.

Upon request, Craig steps out to pick up some clothes for Alan and a gift for Ryan. The Gangrel is in no shape to hunt, still missing a good portion of his right arm, showing nasty wounds on his neck, and still with a dent in the left side of his head. The elder’s servant returns just before nine o’clock with a few nice outfits for Alan and a five gallon bucket of pig’s blood for Ryan.

Once cleaned up, everyone except Ryan is off to the hunt. Daniel is first out, and decides to go it alone. He walks the streets toward the bright lights, taking care to note the locations of ATMs, traffic cameras, surveillance feeds, and churches. As luck would have it… they are everywhere. He stays to the shadows as best he can, has a successful night of hunting. He returns to the motel by one a.m., where he finds Ryan trying to manipulate a dollar bill into a soda machine with his off (and only) hand. They start a conversation that goes quickly from Ryan’s need for a Coke to what the heck was up with Omar.

Alan, and Leonora head out to the Lovin’ Cup Bistro, where they are later met by Marcel. The boys carouse the patrons for sustenance, while Leonora seduces a hardy young man back to his apartment. She manages to get back to the Bistro by closing time, feeling a bit inebriated but far less hungry. The three find an all-night eatery to stalk, and collectively carouse their way into more opportunity. They get back to the motel around four in the morning, feeling mostly sated.

Alan’s retainer, Samantha, arrives in his other car shortly thereafter, bringing his essential wardrobe and electronics for keeping up with his business interests. She has unfortunate news for the state of his affairs in Toledo, though all is not lost. He will be able to make some insurance claims, and potential liquidate some assets if moving back to Toledo proves unfeasible.

Humble Beginnings Indeed
Highlander Ho!

The sounds of the prince’s limousine have just faded when a second vehicle can be heard approaching. Mr. Poole reminds everyone to gather whatever things they may have had in the rail car and hop down. A white, older model passenger van pulls up. It is the large variety, like a church might have to take the youth group to its softball game, or to pick up elderly members of the congregation before service on Sunday.

Mr. Poole smiles, “A limousine would attract too much attention where we are going.”

The van is spacious enough that you won’t have to touch anyone if you don’t want to.

The Sheriff offers a hand to Leonora, the rest of you can manage on your own. He does not acknowledge the driver, but sits in the front next to her. He sends a quick text before you are on your way.

The tracks were in a manufacturing park, and it’s a few minutes before you see anything resembling a viable hunting ground. You head south on a freeway, and road signs eventually tell you that you are in a place called Henrietta, a suburb city by the looks of it.

During the trip, Mr. Poole explains that you will be staying in one of Mr. Willoghby’s properties. It is ‘out of the way’ of normal kindred activity, but it is within the elder’s domain, and the prince’s protections and influence extend fully to the small town.

“You will be free to move about, but please limit yourselves to Henrietta. Stay north and west of 390 if you can help it. The further west you get past West Henrietta Road, the less there is to see. If you get to Gennesee River, turn around.

“You should be able to contact whomever you need to in Toledo to arrange for your things, if you wish. I’m sure you have servants or property you are eager to check on. From what I have heard, the kine are not in the streets again tonight in your former home city, but there were similar incidences in surrounding areas. Detroit is still in a bit of turmoil, it seems.”

You don’t get far from the freeway when the van pulls into an old motel. Only one of the three lights in the parking lot works. A neon sign struggles to flash ‘NO VACANCY’, and above it a painted sign is so faded that it takes a moment to discern that it says “Highlander Motel”. There is a sedan in the lot with its engine running. As you disembark, a gray-haired gentleman steps from the back seat of the idling car. He is dressed in brown slacks, shined shoes, a long wool coat, and is wearing leather gloves. His head is balding, and his eyes are bright behind wire-rimmed glasses. Mr. Poole steps to him, they exchange a few words, and walk toward you.

The sheriff presents you each to the man by name, and then introduces him formally. “I give you Mr. Gordon Willoghby, Brujah primogen. It is by his grace and good standing with your former prince that you have come to be here. I leave you now in his very capable hands.” The fancy man bows with a flourish, and skips his way back to the van as though he might begin to dance. Daniel heard him humming softly.

[Let’s fore-go introductions to GW and assume they go well. He is relaxed and easy going, much in contrast to the prince. He has the bearing of a college professor and perhaps reminds you of a favorite uncle.

You may ask questions of Mr. Poole during the ride over, if you wish. I will answer them in-thread. The same with Mr. Willoghby. You may role-play as little or as much as like.]

“You will each have a room to yourself. The windows are barred and secure, the drapes adequate for your needs. There are no security cameras until you get to the filling station up the street. The motel’s attendant is Craig. He’s one of my best servants, and will be here during the day and early evenings. Call him if you need anything. Keep your electronic communications mundane or coded. It’s safest to assume everything you send from a computer or telephone can be intercepted.

“You’ll find the best hunting on either side of Jefferson Road. There is a bit of night life there. Just about everything east of this freeway here is residential, if that suits you more. As always, discretion is paramount. As you are all here as my guests, I am responsible for your behavior… but I am sure that won’t be problem.”

[NOTE: While I am using google maps to explore the actual city of Rochester and it’s surrounding areas, I am in no way trying to make it resemble reality. I am only referencing real life for land marks, street names, etc, and inspiration]

A fine how-do-you-do

Each character in turn makes their version of an introduction of themselves to the Prince. Base roll CHR + ETIQ, modified by circumstance/merits/flaws/whaterver I deem appropriate #Hailtotheking

Alan: -2 diff Enchanting Voice. -4 dice for overriding princes decree in front of assembled kindred, -1 dice wound in neck, +2 difficulty, face and neck are numb ROLL: X,X,X,X,X,8,8

[I hate Dylan, he is a poopy-pants] The prince speaks “Your experiment was completely uncalled for, Mr. Ramsey. His guilt was known. If you wish to succeed here, I suggest you take the word of your elders seriously. I will not long tolerate insubordination. That goes for all of you.” [CHR + INTIMIDATION = 4 successes at diff YOUR WILLPOWER here’s only the dice that are 5 or better: 5,7,7,9,10. You should consider your character impressed with, and frightened by, the prince. The more success he has against your willpower score, the moreso. He did not employ any disciplines.

Daniel: ROLL: 4,4 Rose: “Well hello, tall dark and…darker.” wink “I’ll take him.” Patterson: “We will talk soon, Mr. Drummond.”

Leonora: ROLL: 4,5,5,6,8,9,10 The Prince welcomes you, and assures you will be comfortable in Rochester. He hasn’t had a member of your family in the city in quite some years, and looks forward to getting to know you. There is always a place for grace and sophistication in his fiefdom.

Marcel: ROLL: 4,6,7,7,10,10
!!!!! The prince welcomes you warmly and predicts you will have great success here. Your primogen is Gordon Willoghby, who is off making preparations for your accomodations as we speak, you should meet him later tonight. He goes on to mention how fond he is of your elder in Toledo and how eager Gordon will be to meet you.

Ryan: ROLL: 1,5,9,10 The prince welcomes you and commends you for your obvious sacrifices made getting the troupe here safely. Mr. Poole is concerned at your condition, and urges you to take some down time.

NOTE TO PLAYERS – Ryan Malone was always a quiet, stoic, brooding type. The Daffy Duck routine is new.

Cassidy: ROLL: 2 successes. The prince is happy to have her, and Virgil invites her to come with him from here.

" The rest of you will be going with Mr. Poole. He is my Sheriff, and you will follow his instructions carefully. We have made accomodations for you. You will stay there, as Mr. Wiloghby’s guests, for the time being."

Poole makes a phone call, informing someone he has some trash for him to clean up.

You may interact with each other and the NPCs. Patterson, Zimmerman, and Thorne are getting back into the limo. Poole asks everyone to come downand not disturb the remain. He has people coming for it.

Arrival Scene 1; Train Yard 2
Maybe the elders were on to something...

The shadow tentacle at Omar’s feet coiled tightly around his foot, and three more reached out from the darkness behind, grabbing him around the waist and neck. The toothed tendrils struck at the shadow quickly, slicing and poking at it as if they had minds of their own.

Alan fought against Omar’s hold on him for a moment, but realized he would not be able to break the brujah’s vice-like grip. He decided instead to be as small a hindrance to his comrade’s targetting as possible, and curled his legs up and his arms in as tightly as he could. If Omar wanted a hundred and sixty pound shield, he’d have to hold it up. “Omar, you don’t want to do this, man! Calm down!” The guttural growl and snap of his teeth at the ventrue’s neck convinced Alan there was no chance at talking him down. Omar was gone. The beast was in control.

One of Daniel’s arms of the abyss broke from the damage inflicted by the whipping hooks. Omar was pulling against the others, holding Alan with only one arm now. The young lasombra lifted his pistol to fire, and found it weighed a ton. The wound in his shoulder stung sharply as he tried to take aim, but his trigger finger was on a delay. The shot missed wide right.

“Oh come on!” Ryan could be heard to shout. “Who does that? I’ve seen enough hentai to know where this is going!” He was reaching for his gun with his non-existent right hand, realized it, and grabbed it with his left. Laboriously, he began to stand. It required maximum effort.

Leonora stepped cautiously behind the crazed brujah, looking for an opportunity to reach him. When it came, she jumped forward and grazed the back of his neck with her fingertips. A neck tendril immediately lashed back, but she had already withdrawn.

Marcel couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt a pang of sympathy for his clan mate, but in the next moment wondered if anything he’d ever known about him was the truth. He picked up the broken bottom of an old wooden pallet and twisted off a two foot piece of dried two by two. He hoped he didn’t have to use it.

Malone was on his feet and found a firing window. It put Alan at risk of getting hit, but it was the best chance he was going to get. “This scene may contain depictions BLAM of graphic violence BLAM that may be unsuitable for BLAM children.” Omar’s body shook with each muzzle flash as the shots hit their mark, each coming precariously close to hitting Alan. Even frenzied, Omar staggered back, pushed by the .45 rounds and pulled by the shadow tentacles. As he struggled, his skin began to shrink and his flesh withered. His wild eyes sunk into their sockets and his lips curled as they shrunk away from each other, leaving a menacing corpse-smile on the kindred’s face. “OH! That’s gotta hurt!”

All six of the neck tendrils whipped at the gangrel, who bobbed his head to avoid one of them and was just out of reach of the rest. Daniel passed his pistol to his left hand and took aim, his right arm almost completely numb. He and Ryan fired continuously, pushing Omar’s withered body up against the back wall of the container car. Alan rolled clear, pulled his pistol, and joined in. Chunks of Omar’s torso flew away and he screamed with hellish agony at each impact, his limbs and tendrils twitching like the legs of a squished spider. When his body finally gave up on him and he slumped to the floor, the blood red tendrils retreated back into his neck… and then erupted from the top of his head.

Post fight essential stats:
Alan – 1 agg, 6 blood, -1 dice pools (effect)
Daniel – 2 aggs, 5 blood, -2 dice pools (-1 wounds, -1 effect)
Leonora – 5 blood
Marcel – 6 blood
Ryan – 5 aggs, 7 blood, 1 willpower, –2 dice (wounds)
Cassidy – ????

Nobody frenzied, though Alan had to push back some panic. Healing Aggs requires a days rest and 5 blood points.

You can use the comments to talk in or out of character and ask me questions. We’ll go free form with it.

Cassidy is standing deep inside the car, mouth agape, clutching a bent piece of aluminum pipe.
Arrival Scene 1; Train yard
O-mar gawd!!!
The new arrivals turned toward the accused brujah almost in unison, and subconsciously moved away him slightly. His eyes darted back and forth quickly, looking either for an immediate threat or perhaps an escape route.

Leonora and Marcel shrank away from Omar even more so than the others, she having no real reason to trust Omar or these newly met kindred, and he not wanting to act first on the wrong impulse. Whether this was a test of obedience in which Omar was the sacrifice, or whether he truly was a sabbat plant, it was worth taking as many moments as were afforded to figure it out.

Daniel tried to get a read on prince Patterson. He was a stone. His face showed only conviction, and his finger still stuck like a spear through the air at Omar. The young-looking woman and elderly gentleman took a few steps away from the car, one in each direction. Mr. Poole took two steps back from the car, and moved his hand to the stock of his shotgun. Omar’s skin turned the slightest shade toward ashen. He was using his vitae. Alan was turning toward the elders, as if he was going to address them. Perhaps it was best to wait a moment. Just in case, he burned some blood of his own and created a shadow tendril behind Omar, and slithered it between his feet, ready to trip him up if he tried to run.

Ryan’s head lifted at the sound of Omar’s pleading. "Orangutan ambulance tile? Wait…wait, no. Are you sure? Because I was going to share my chimichanga with that guy. That didn’t sound right. “ A few eyebrows raised while eyes shifted to Alan, who addressed the elders. “Prince Patterson, may I humbly propose that we conduct a short experiment to see if Omar is truly a Sabbat spy? I have something of a talent for interrogation.”

“What the f…Interro…“, Omar muttered .

The prince’s forehead creased with displeasure at the neonate’s insubordination, but a few words from the smiling young woman to his left smoothed them. Of the kindred on the train, only Daniel made out most of what she said. The prince smiled with half of his mouth, “Very well, Mr. Ramsey. Proceed.”

“Omar?” Ryan’s left arm extended suddenly, wildly firing a finger gun. “What the Milky Way?! Wow! That’s loud!”

Alan turned to face Omar, and showed the brujah the palms of his hands reassuringly. He smiled a very calming smile. The young ventrue had the full attention of everyone in the rail car. (Awe: 3 successes) “Omar, confess to us which sect you are loyal to!” (Mesmerize: 4 successes)

Omar opened his mouth to speak, but made no sound. The flesh on his face shook as he struggled to speak, or perhaps to not. “I – I am… of course…. I …” The brujah’s lips curled and his fangs protruded. His head took on a ruddy hue, perhaps as blood rushed to it. His hands folded into fists as his neck burst open along both sides. A fine spray of vitae misted the air and several long, red, sinewy tendrils erupted from the flesh. They whipped about violently, six in all, three from each side and each with a pointed tooth on the end.

Three of them struck Alan, two in the abdomen, one in the neck. (1 aggravated wound after soaks) The young ventrue reeled in pain, the wound in his neck burning from under the skin. The others whipped in all directions, one barely missing Marcel, one causing Cassidy to fall over avoiding it, and one catching Daniel deeply in the front of his right shoulder. (2 aggravated wounds!) He grimaced in pain and couldn’t help but notice an acrid, burnt smell. In seconds, his right arm began to tingle with numbness.

Ryan spoke to his left hand, “Tiffany, no! Use your words. Violence never solves any- am I the only person that sees a dialog bubble above my head?” He turned to the unfamiliar Kindred. “You guys can see that, right? No?” His hand continued to fire. Omar spun Alan around, holding him closely in an effort to shield himself. Alan could feel his face going numb. “Alright, clearly you feel the need to act out. I normally encourage that kind of proactive creativity, but can’t you see that Debbie Gibson,” the gangrel held up the nub of his right elbow, “just needs peace and quiet?”

What do you do? This will be the start of a combat round. I’m not going to adhere to the roll initiative/declare actions order strictly given the nature of the medium we are using and how long or not it might take somebody to respond. You can ask questions, declare actions, or simply state your goals for your character for next three or so seconds of story time, and I’ll smooth it out.

Alan – 1 agg, 6 blood, -1 dice pools (effect)
Daniel – 2 aggs, 6 blood, -2 dice pools (-1 wounds, -1 effect)
Leonora – 6 blood
Marcel – 6 blood
Ryan – 5 aggs, 7 blood, 1 willpower, –2 dice (wounds)
Cassidy – ????

Prologue - Part 3

Through a hail of gunfire from vampires leaning out of every available opening in the ice cream truck, the car carrying Omar and Marcel tore across the manicured grass of the golf course, spitting turf high into the air as it fishtailed wildly and bounced violently over gentle hills. Its course was still taking it to the prince’s dock.

“Get off the boat,” Alan suggested. “Defend yourselves.” The other kindred jumped to do so, without much thought on the matter.

The small passenger car had taken about all the abuse it could handle. A wheel was seen flying off of it as it came down hard over a mogul hill. The windows were shot up, and its engine made awful grinding noises as it lurched closer to the edge of the grass. The truck behind it barreled recklessly over the terrain, losing a passenger and nearly tipping twice. The gunfire had subsided while its occupants held on. Still, it managed to catch and ram its target, sending the little car spinning and then tumbling over. Both vehicles came to rest on the grass, the ice cream truck on its side, the car on its wheels after a three hundred and sixty degree roll-over. Its roof was caved in, but the brujah inside could be seen punching and kicking at the doors to break them open, which they did in short order.

Omar ran with vampiric speed, clearing the crash scene and taking cover behind Alan’s car. Marcel was not quite as fast, but made it to a bench and dove for cover behind it. He had taken gunfire, and it was unclear if he had been hit.

Alan broke his cover and returned fire, sending the assailants crawling out of the ice cream truck ducking for cover, save one. A gray-skinned man with slicked-back hair wearing slacks and a jacket did not flinch at all. He instead started to charge forward, growing in size as he went, his skin turning oily black while bony protrusions erupted from his joints. The others found confidence in his defiance, and followed him, pinning the Camarilla kindred down with gunfire as they went. There were three armed men, or rather two men and one woman. They all wore red sashes over their heads to conceal their faces.

Marcel was mostly unprotected. The bench provided very little cover, and the hulking sabbat warrior, now fully eight feet tall and thick like a gorilla, was headed straight at him, shrugging off what few shots Alan could take at him. In the commotion, no one heard the motorcycle coming up the fairway.

Ryan opened the throttle, and hit the hill in front of the practice green at full speed and with as powerful a jounce as he could muster. The two-wheeler bounced high into the air, almost throwing the gangrel off. The bike leaned back, front wheel to sky, with its engine screaming in a high pitch. Ryan tucked his knees to his chest, put both feet on the seat, and laid himself out as forcefully as he could, propelling the bike forward like it had been sprung from a slingshot. The three gunman turned in time to see it coming, but the two men could not react fast enough to avoid taking the machine on their chins. Body and bike crashed and rolled and skidded across the grass. Ryan fell hard to the ground, but bounced up quickly, only to find the woman ready for him. She sprayed him with 9mm rounds, hitting him several times in the chest and head. Daniel saw chunks of the gangrel’s skull fly into the night air amid a spray of red mist. The camarilla soldier dropped like a bag of rocks and lay motionless.

Alan fired at the horrid form bearing down on the brujah, who looked to have decided that he would use the bench as his weapon. He had grabbed it by the armrest on one end, and was ready to swing it when the shot hit the creature somewhere it did not care for, as it howled and broke stride momentarily. A shadowy tendril reached out from underneath the beast and coiled its right leg, slowing him slightly but briefly before breaking into nothingness under the pull of the hulk’s momentum. Marcel heaved the bench at his attacker, who met it with a giant forearm. The force of the impact flung the brujah backward and he bounced hard off the ground to the noticeably loud sounds of his cracking bones.

The woman out on the grass dropped her weapon, its ammunition depleted, and drew a pair of knives from her belt. She made for Alan and Omar, who were using Alan’s car for cover. Focused on the horrid form, they did not see her coming. It was Daniel who did see her, however, and sent the shadow out to meet her. He, Leonora, and Cassidy ran out to engage her, Daniel firing the last of his clip and keeping tendrils of shadow whipping at her at her as he went. She was a practiced fighter, and cut back the tendrils and the Tremere before sticking Leonora with a solid blow, too. The Giovanni kept a quizzical look on her face as her vitae colored the air around her, and with Daniel’s help continued to try to hold the sabbat fighter down.

Meanwhile, Alan had jumped into and started his luxury SUV. He gunned the gas and pointed it directly at the sabbat beast, slamming into it before it could grab Marcel. The SUV pushed the thing for almost twenty feet before it got its feet under itself, planted, and heaved the vehicle aside. The sabbat killing machine took a step over Ryan Malone’s still body toward the SUV, as Alan hurriedly reloaded his gun from the driver’s seat. Quite suddenly, Malone’s arm swung in a wide arc and stuck the beast’s foot to the ground with a combat knife. The creature roared again, and grabbed the gangrel, lifting him up toward waiting fangs. Alan could see Ryan was missing a fist-sized piece of his head above his left eye, but had somehow regained consciousness. The horrid form wrapped both hands around Malone’s torso and clamped its giant mouth down on his neck. The gangrel shook violently in pain, but could not break the beast’s grasp. Instead, he managed to hug the creature tight, holding his right hand to the base of its skull. From inside his car, Alan caught the glint of the pin releasing from the grenade in the gangrel’s hand. He opened the door and ran away as quickly as he could.

As the echoes from the explosion faded, the woman who had fought Daniel and Leonora to a standstill disengaged and ran off into the night faster than either of them could pursue. The two armed kindred who had been knocked down by the motorcycle took final death from the grenade blast and resulting motorcycle shrapnel. Leonora, Caassidy, and Marcel would find enough vitae in them to help heal their wounds, however.

The beast that had ravaged the waterfront just moments ago wasn’t nearly so formidable without it’s head and most of its torso. What remained of it was slowly breaking down into an oily, viscous goo. Suprisingly, Ryan Malone was mostly in one piece. The blast had thrown him ten feet, he was blackened and burned, still with a missing piece of his head and now his right arm just below the elbow. The wounds were wet with blood, though he was unconscious. When he was offered vitae from one of the sabbat corpses, his tongue could be seen to wiggle ever so slightly as he swallowed.

“I’ll be damned, I think he’s still with us.”

Leonora smirked. “I agree. On both counts.”

It was agreed the corpses would be burned in the ice cream truck, and that Omar would try to hotwire one of the boats. They had great success on the first point, and none on the second. There were fires burning in the city, the orange glow and plumes of smoke visible even from down on the piers. Sirens still sounded. Helicopters could be heard in the air.

Omar had moved onto his third attempt, hoping somehow this one would be easier to start than the others had been. It was nearing 2 am. They were either going to get discovered by authorities, or run into dawn if they couldn’t get going soon. Talk about sneaking back into the city had started when Daniel noticed a bat swooping in from overhead. It fell out of the sky as Jack, one of the Sheriffs hounds.

“You guys gotta get out of here.” The gangrel was harrowed. He had seen combat, as well. “There’s nothing left to stay for. The prince is dead. The council is dead. There was supposed to be a boat coming, did it ever show up?”

Jack took a quick report of what had happened. While Alan was filling him in, Daniel felt the shadows move around him. He wasn’t doing it. Out on the water, shadow moved slowly toward the dock, sticking to something unnaturally.

“I think that ride is here, Jack.” The shadows pulled back to reveal a barge, and men dressed all in black ready to throw ropes to the dock. A handsome man with long black hair and dark eyes made a suspiciously long jump onto the pier.

“Sorry I’m late. Turns out this isn’t the only place with a hellish eruption happening tonight. Good evening, Daniel, glad to see you made it.”

“Hello, Edward.”

Jack spoke quickly and seriously. “Ed will take you out of here. Do as he says until he drops you off. The prince or one of the elders made some kind of deal to get Camarilla out of here when all this shit started. This city is lost. Don’t come back.”

Alan looked puzzled. “You aren’t coming?”

“No, I’ve got shit to do. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Good luck. If Ryan ever wakes up, tell him I think he’s a dumbass.”

Jack took to the air and disappeared into the night sky. The kindred on the pier quickly got themselves onto Edward’s barge. The men who served the pirate each gave a blood donation to an empty jar for Ryan. Edward made it clear that if the gangrel frenzied, he’d throw into the lake and be done with him. Held down by rope and chains, Ryan accepted the blood and his body showed signs of healing. His arm was still missing, but the wounds had healed over. He still had a big dent in his head, but his brain was no longer visible, and he was conscious, though complacent and seemingly not very aware of his surroundings.

Just before morning, Edward dropped his kindred cargo off on a gravel shore a short distance outside of an unnamed town, and walked them through a train yard to a rail car with an open door. A gray haired man several cars up nodded to the dark captain and he nodded back, then motioned to the car.

“It’s light tight. You’ll be safe in here until nightfall. Whatever you do, do not open this door. It will be opened for you when it is safe to do so.

The odd coterie loaded themselves into the rail car. It was sparsely cluttered with the remnants of pallets and plastic wrap. Edward slid the door closed, and the interior echoed with the sound of the lever locking it into place. Several cell phone flashlights came on. The kindred spread out a bit, not wanting to sleep close to one another. They kept quiet, no one voicing the concerns they all had. Cassidy performed some ritual at the door, placing a drop of blood in front of it. She said it would keep sunlight from sneaking through the cracks, just in case. It seemed to make her feel better.

The car started to move as the kindred within began to drift off to sleep.

The door of the rail car opened, letting the languorous light settle in. A dapper looking fellow with a BBC accent stood outside, holding the handle, “Come on, freaky darlings. Don’t be shy. They’ll want to have a look at you before you’re formally welcomed. Just relax and line up where they can see you.” His ensemble was high fashion with strong homage to Edwardian and Victorian Europe and New England, the fine details and rakish smile contrasted sharply with the enormous firearm resting in the crook of his arm. One by one the occupants emerged from darkness and stood in the opening of the train car. A limousine was parked a dozen or so yards out. This area of the train yard was quiet, and distant from any structures. The nearby rails were lined with container cars, blocking line of sight to anything that might be nearby. Alan noticed the quality and versatility of the dandy’s weapon, a semiautomatic 12 gauge with four manually indexed ammunition tubes. A pro could have that loaded with anything from armor piercing slugs to flechettes to incendiary rounds and change his load on the fly. Leonora noted that the limousine driver had not stepped out of the vehicle to open the doors for his passengers.

The door on the far side of the limousine opened. A solemn-looking man of martial bearing stepped out and surveyed the occupants. After his gaze fell on each of them, he gave a small nod to someone else in the vehicle. A young looking woman in a short, beaded dress popped out of the far door with excitement. She barely remembered to take the man’s arm, then tugged him forward. The nearest door opened slowly and a thin foot and leg settled on the ground…followed by a second. A rail thin gentleman rose slowly to his feet and smiled, smoothing back thin strands of white hair onto an aged head. He slowly put his broad brimmed hat on, straightened it, and shared a nod with the man and sprightly woman.
The fashionable looking man, that one who had opened the container door, doffed his hat and made a flourish to the stern looking man by the car, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I, Felix Poole, present you to Prince Patterson.” One of the occupants whispered, “I forget, do we bow or curtsy?” The prince raised one finger sharply, silencing any further comments. The elderly looking fellow and puerile lass turned towards him and conferred. The man in charge nodded to the dapper man with the weapon.
“Ah,” grimaced Mr. Poole as though someone made a gaffe at a dinner party, “there seems to be a complication. Apparently, one of you is a Sabbat spy. And since you brought the spy with you…you need to take care of the problem.”

The prince’s finger stabbed through the air with accusation, “That one.” All eyes followed the line through the air that ended at Omar.

“What? Wha-? Guys, c’mon… Who the hell is this guy, what does… you know me, Marcel… This is crazy?”

The chronicle starts now.
You may ask questions pertaining to the prologue if you like.

Everyone is at HALF blood pool (round up). No one has any wounds, EXCEPT RYAN MALONE, who is Mauled with Aggravated Wounds (-2 penalty) and down to 1 Willpower point.

If your character has a handgun (Dylan, Darin, and Nick), assume you still have a clip of ammunition.


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